of Getting Papers and Jackets
by Kayzo
Summary: It's really cold ok? So it wasn't England's fault; it was just lying there for pete's sake! Stupid America, and stupid jacket! USxUK T for language


A/N: Man, I wish it was cold. Im going to die from this heat! but that's irrelivent, I don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter (you'll see).

so, enjoy the bloody story!

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God was it cold! England shivered, furiously rubbing his arms to try and gain some warmth. He was at another world meeting and, of course, it had to be on the freakin' coldest day of the year and, of course, the heater in this stupid building just _had_ to be on the frits.

England gave a particularly violent shiver; why oh why hadn't he worn thicker clothes? Oh, right, the _weatherman._ Stupid lying son of a--cursing with a lovely array of vocabulary while his teeth chattered, England noticed that it was cold enough to see his own breath, making his curse more.

He had forgotten some papers he needed back in the regular meeting room (they had unanimously decided (except Russia, but he didn't count) to move to a smaller room in hopes of getting the slightest bit warmer) and was now on the wonderful journey of going to retrieve them.

England quickened his pace; he wasn't in a particular hurry, in the shuffle to a smaller room, Russia, America, Lithuania, and Prussia (why he was there, England didn't think he would ever know) had mysteriously gone missing. No, there was no hurry, but the increased movement helped to warm him a bit.

Finally! England swiftly went through the propped open door, immediately spotting his papers where he had left them. Gathering them, England absentmindedly glanced around the room. What the hell was that? Something was hanging off one of the chairs—a jacket. England internally berated the idiot who was stupid enough to leave his coat here on such a cold day. Really it was such a waste, and even from here it looked rather warm…

Glancing to either side, England made sure he was alone before making his way to the coat. Oh bollocks. That obnoxious fifty on the back, white star (how had he missed it before, looking at the front of it as he had?), bomber plane on the arm and well-wore well-loved leather; it was impossible to mistake it.

It was America's.

England blushed, before immediately scolding himself. It was jut a silly jacket. That happened to belong to America…who happened to keep spouting nonsense about some supposed 'special relationship'.

England cleared his throat, turning his body away from the coat yet glancing at it from the corner of his eye. It looked so big. Was it always that big? Well, it had to be but… it, it just looked different without the usual young country in it. It also looked warm. America wouldn't mind if he just put it on—only for warmth of course—_he_ apparently wasn't using it at the moment. Yeah, he wouldn't mind… England ignored how his cheeks heated up a lot more than from just the fact that he was borrowing a coat without asking.

Erk, it was a lot heavier than he expected, with the way America always seemed to effortlessly throw it over his shoulder (although he did drag around that truck, it probably _was_ effortless for him). It sagged over his shoulders, engulfing his small frame and wafting the sent of hamburgers and spring mornings (an odd combination, but somehow fitting) towards his nose. It was really warm, indicating that its rightful owner hadn't left it too long ago. England felt his face heat up. He buried his face into the wool collar, taking a deep breath, not only to calm himself but to (and he would never admit to this) get a better whiff of the strangely nice smell.

'_What's this?'_

England jumped, quickly looking around, yet seeing nothing. It had sounded like it had come from… the jacket itself. England almost gave into the bout of nervous laughter that was bubbling up, well that was just impossible wasn't it? If he didn't know any better, he was say this was the jacket form of the bloody sorting hat.

'_You're not the Gryffindor who owns this coat'_

Holy fucking Queen Elisabeth in punk! It _was_ the fucking sorting hat! No _wonder_ America never took it off.

"—Yeah, I just gotta get my jacket." England froze, so shocked, in fact, that he forgot he had a talking jacket on his hands.

Of all the people! Well, he should have known the idiot would come back for it, really, he didn't even know why he had it on in the first place, it had nothing to do with the fact that he might just like the brave nation a little more fitting to the label of 'special relationship' than he'd like to admit—wait, no! He had been cold! That was it, yeah! That was his cover and he was sticking to it! Um, not _cover,_ cold hard _truth_! He had nothing _to_ cover!

That didn't explain why he all but jumped under the table when those heavy footsteps got closer.

"I told you to _bring_ your jacket…" England could almost here Lithuania roll his eyes.

"But where's the fun in that, right Russia?" and the smile in America's voice was just as obvious. Thinking of America smiling while wearing his jacket…ok, he was _not_ going to repeat that.

"Dah, America," Russia voice made him shiver, even in the protective confines of the warm jacket.

"Well _I'm_ going to the meeting!" Prussia announced with the bravo he normally had.

America gave a laugh, "what, did Germany bring those sausage things?"

"They're _bratwurst!_" Prussia sounded mildly embarrassed, and England could help a snicker, "and what if he did?"

"Nothing, nothing," America said, and England could tell he was right in the doorway, halted, "you guys go on, I'll catch up in a sec." Prussia was already gone, his quick steps showing how much he _really_ wanted that bratwurst.

"But we shouldn't start the meeting any later than it already is…" it was obvious Lithuania had already resigned himself to the fact that the stubborn, young nation would take his time dawdling back to the meeting by the sound of his soft foot steps already sounding.

"Lithuania, Lithuania," America was smiling again, England was as sure of it as he was that Fairies were real, "I can't be late, the party doesn't start till I arrive!"

"It's a meeting, not a party…" Lithuania sighed, his voice getting softer as he walked away, larger, heavier footsteps right behind. England vaguely wondered what it was like for Lithuania, always having Russia on his heels.

"I though I left it on the back of my chair…" well _that_ line of thought quickly ended. _What_ in the queen's name had possessed him to hide? He wasn't doing anything _terrible_, simply trying to keep from freezing to death.

"Oh, there it is." Who the hell had taught America to think to himself out loud? Certainly not _him_. Those strong footsteps came closer and closer… England gulped before scrambling up, holding the accursed jacket tight around himself.

"England!" he sounded surprised. England sure hoped the strong blush that simple _had_ to be on his cheeks could be passed off as reaction to the cold (although he was anything but cold at the moment).

"Yes, America," England frowned in anger, or he tried to, he had the distinct impression that it looked like a cross between a pout and a pleading look, oh well, best to go for anger, it was the easiest after all, "why the bloody hell did you leave you're coat here? In _this_ weather?!"

"Russia challenged me." America sniffed, saying it as if that was supposed to answer everything. Upon England's confused look he continued.

"He challenged me to go outside without my coat." He looked to the side and sniffed again, "well, not in those exact words, but it definitely was a challenge. And a hero can never back down from a challenge!"

"…" England just gave him a look, the look he had used when America was just a small colony, the look that said 'are-you-serious-I-can't-believe-you-were-so-stupid', yeah, he was good.

"Well that doesn't explain why you're wearing it!" America said a bit defensively. England bristled, about to bite back (with what, he had no idea) when America sneezed. England latched onto that and swore to not let go.

"You've gone and gotten your self sick, you idiot!" England chastised, taking the coat off (goodbye glorious warmth) and trying to drape it over the taller country's shoulders while said country sniffed and sneezed again. After a moment he got it on the other blond and crossed his arms, in a disapproving way, _not_ because he was bloody cold.

He stormed over to his papers and gathered them haphazardly, turning to face America who hadn't moved, only turned to see what he was doing.

"Well, come on idiot," England once again ignored the heat in his cheeks (he was getting rather good at that, if he did say so himself), "we have a meeting to attend." America smiled after a beat and England bristled, like he always did when being shown affection by the younger nation.

He turned away, purposefully heading towards the door when he was once again engulfed in heat, although now it was a lot warmer than just a simple jacket.

"W-what?" England turned to see America's chin resting on his shoulder and a smile on his lips. The arms around his waist tightened slightly, and England swore if he got any redder his face would explode.

"You were cold, right?" America asked all too innocently. Oh god, even his ears were red, that couldn't be healthy!

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" England quickly turned his head away from those blue eyes, but he made no move to get out of the warm embrace… it was rather cold out.

'_And so the Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff unite'_

"HEY!! I'm no _HUFFLEPUFF_!"

"?"

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Well, like it? Love it? Hate it? Want it to burn in the firey depths of hell? Please let me know!


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